


Sympathy for the Serpent

by muldersfoxhole



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts First Year, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Deathly Hallows, Slow Burn, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muldersfoxhole/pseuds/muldersfoxhole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can anyone understand the concept of easy if things have been difficult since day one? If anyone could figure it out--at least with a flair of the cunning--it had to be a Slytherin. </p><p>However this Slytherin was nearly another Hermione Granger, being muggleborn and cursed with just as much unruly hair. </p><p>If only one of her housemates had left their prejudices back on the train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Humblest of Beginnings

The rickety chair squeaked for her as the Sorting Hat seemed to be perplexed at which house to sort her into. The second consecutive hum of deep thought that buzzed out of it made her open her eyes to finally look at the snickering crowd of future friends and enemies. As she squeezed the edges of the wooden seat many greats have sat in before, she locked eyes with a boy that practically reeked of Slytherin.

“That’s Draco Malfoy,” the Hat commented nonchalantly. The poor girl nearly jumped ten feet in response. After a haughty chuckle shared with the crowd it continued, “And yes, he _does_ reek of Slytherin.”

She was convinced if her face grew any redder it would’ve given Gryffindor’s colors a run for its money. The escalating laughter did everything but make it better.

“Can you just sort me already?” It was hard to not grow impatient at this point.

“Marie, you should have gone to the school back in the States if you wanted a quick decision,” with no retort the Hat went on, “I understand you’re a Muggleborn and that happens to be enough of a struggle for most. However despite the vast distance from which you came, you were sent an acceptance letter for a reason. Now, I can’t tell you everything your future holds---

Marie involuntarily interrupted, “I know.”

“Then you must also know that your future will not be devoid of difficulty. In fact, I sense you will face many challenges from here on out…and no, that isn’t a subjective prediction.” When there was no response, the Hat finally made a choice, “As much as you would be a great Gryffindor— _I know about the blanket, by the way_ —you would have also made a wonderful Ravenclaw. But after much patient thought, I shall declare you…. _Slytherin!”_

When Marie left the stool and sat at the table under the Slytherin tapestry, the sound of sheer protest from the others sorted into her house and even those unsorted rang like white noise in her ears. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in too much of a shock to overlook her peers turning in their chairs to face away from her. She torpidly placed her head down on the table as Dumbledore ironically roared to silence the others.

And that Draco Malfoy was ultimately sorted into Slytherin without a hitch.


	2. Establishing Enemies and Forging Friends

Without her mother to take time to comb out the most ruthless knots in her brunette locks, Marie had to succumb to doing it herself. The brush made it sound just as painful as it was.

“Your hair is as straight as it is long and yet you can’t even control it!” Pansy Parkinson never failed to revel at the fact it was virtually impossible for anyone to apply for another roommate.

Marie paused to glance at her redwood wand on the nearby dresser before continuing the attempt to tame her mane in the tall, gothic mirror. “At least I have hair that’s _worth_ controlling,” she muttered just loud enough for it to fall on Pansy’s ears. It wasn’t long until she felt a poke in her back from an opposing wand. At the same time the knot was finally cleared, but not without a wounded yelp.

“You don’t have to be using _my_ mirror, _Goike_.” As she turned to replace the comb with her own wand, Pansy’s arm remained outreached and followed a path straight to Marie’s heart.

“You’re right, I don’t _have_ to use the mirror—not anymore, at least,” she walked past the drawn weapon to grab her textbooks on her bed, “But remember _you_ don’t have to use it either.”

Now with hardcovers in tow and being just shy of leaving the room, Pansy still had her arm extended at her roommate. She nearly snarled, “Give me _one_ good reason to not strike you dead, you _muddy witch.”_

With her wand in a much firmer grip and books closely secure with her left arm, Marie gradually backed just in between the doorway and said, “I’ll give you two: you’ll be instantly kicked out of Hogwarts and you don’t even _know_ any spells that can kill me yet.”

The wand finally returned to Pansy’s side with heavy reluctance, “Yeah, _‘yet_.’ That means I will eventually be able to…and when I do, _you better be out of my sights_.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Marie quickly turned on her heels and made her way to the common room. She nearly made it to the exit, but not before a certain boy and his thugs did.

“And where do _you_ think you’re going, _Goike?”_ the boy’s British twang was as slick as his blond hair. Marie had to remind herself that she’s really the one with accent here.

She couldn’t suppress her annoyance, “To _class?_ Something you should really consider if—

“Her voice is so nosey!” Vincent Crabbe never failed to point that out. It was as if he forgot he already pointed that out every day during the first week. Marie wouldn’t put it past him if he couldn’t name the school he was currently in.

Malfoy’s arms uncrossed as he exasperatedly recapped Crabbe’s now eighth consecutive vocabulary lesson, “It’s _nasal_ , you git! _‘Her voice is so nasal’_ is what you are _supposed_ to say!”

She had to beam at how Draco’s scolding made him literally cower back in fear despite being more than capable of wringing him like a towel.

Of course daft Goyle was only laughing at the fact that Tweedledum was being yelled at. It wasn’t too prolonged until Alice harshly reminded him that he was indeed Tweedledee.

“Okay _Malfoy_ , are you done yet? I actually want to make it to my classes today,” Marie never pondered buying a tape recorder as much as she did right now. Not only to get them to listen to themselves repeat their lines like a script, but so that she could save herself the precious oxygen. She could never tell them that, though—only because they probably don’t even know what a tape recorder is.

She used to be startled by Malfoy’s following stormy glare boring malicious spite into her own innocent brown gaze. But with a week’s worth of experience she had learned to proverbially commit a return to sender. When he broke the stare with a subtle glance at the flooring, he met her eyes once more with a rare hint of defeat. “Yeah, I’m done,” but before she could fathom to savor this moment he pressed on, “It won’t be long before we see each other again, anyway.” He ended with a smirk that stank with pretension as he stepped aside with Crabbe and Goyle soon following suit.

* * *

 

The truth was that along with Transfiguration and Herbology, the two shared nearly every other class with each other. Sure it was fun to watch Professor Snape have his way with the punk in Potions, but she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Though that sensation quickly vanished when Malfoy’s goons made her share the same fate.

The bottle hit the ground with an ear-piercing crash that went straight to the professor. The container was beyond even magical repair, but that didn’t stop Marie from pulling out her wand and kneeling over the spill. Snickering that could be heard in the background suddenly silenced as an indicator of who was nearby. Before she could remember the only repairing spell she knew, a pale hand on her robes quickly yanked her upward and away from the accident.

“How many times do I have to tell you to treat a fallen potion as a chemical spill?” Snape somehow always managed to sound angry and indifferent at the same time. Marie sometimes wondered what it would take to get him to falter, or if that was even possible.

A familiar voice unexpectedly came from the opposite side of the room facing her and his personal perpetrators, “Until she finally gets hurt.” The way he stepped out of the shadows with crossed arms was almost theatric.

As the spill was now miraculously cleaning itself up with the probable help of a spell, the professor wasted no time in his rebuttal, “I am the professor, Mr. _Malfoy_. The only lessons she shall learn will be the direct result of _my_ teaching.”

It was obvious Snape was one of Malfoy’s few weaknesses. Everyone was pretty much convinced that the only person that could take on the professor was the professor himself. However, Draco sometimes forgot when to call it quits, “F-Fine. I’ll just pick up where I left off in Transfigurations.”

Marie was sadly just as prone to the same lack of tact, “I’ll turn you into the rat you really are!”

“Oh really, you _filthy little—_

“ _Enough_ ,” Snape thundered as he held back the now negatively charged witch. A part of him knew deep down that this was going to be one long year.

* * *

“You call that _light reading?”_ Ron Weasley’s tone of total disbelief was hard to miss. Especially when you were nearby picking out the best book for Transfiguration that wasn’t already taken. Marie just couldn’t help eavesdropping on her Gryffindor counterparts from behind the bookshelf.

A girl sitting across from him with long, wild curls had her finger on the last word she read on the page. Ron’s accusations seemed to have some foundation seeing the book was as big as her—and probably just as heavy. Though facing behind her, Marie could tell she gave him a mean look. Looks like Weasley’s ignorance was blatant outside of class, too.

“Hermione, let off him. We’re all here trying to study.” The boy next to Ron had the darkest hair Marie’s ever seen. Between the tangles on his forehead she noticed the ill-reputed lightning bolt. In a impulsive response she recoiled behind the shelves, but it was anything but quiet.

Hearing the creaks of the triumvirate turning in their chairs towards the sound made her sweat bullets. “Who’s there?” Ron’s voice resonated out as loud as the library allowed.

Now having to quiet her volatile breathing, Marie kept her head low and eyes shut as she made a beeline towards the other end of the aisle away from the boy regarded as the devil himself. Too bad she forgot about the small pile of books she made was now in her way. Hitting the ground with a thud, her wand flew all the way towards her projected point B and landed with a softer clink.

Though tripping over stairs and plain ol’ nothing was nothing new to Marie, she couldn’t quell the agonized groan that escaped her. Using the arm she fell on to sluggishly prop herself up proved to be a daunting task. She could feel the blood seep through her knees and begin to stain her trousers.

“Oh my!” The sound of swift footsteps that rushed towards her brought the world crashing back into focus. It didn’t actually set in until she finally met eyes with the girl they called Hermione. With her wand in tense grip, the curly haired girl was stooped beside Marie. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I…” Marie cringed more at her pained, insecure tone than anything else. She quickly began the sentence again, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Ron suddenly spoke from a short distance behind, “Okay she said she’s fine. Now let’s get out of here before Malfoy—

 _“Ron!_ ” Hermione exclaimed in a hushed tone over her shoulder, “Just because she’s from Slytherin doesn’t mean she’s in his back pocket!” She turned to face Marie once more with much softer features, “Sorry about that. Are you sure you’re all right? You did take quite a tumble.”

Marie chuckled at that subtle indictment as she adjusted to lean against the sturdy shelf, “Yeah, I’m okay. And for the record—I’m the last person _he_ wants to be friends with.”

As Marie haphazardly fixed her hair, Hermione finally pieced together who she was, “ _Oh!_ You’re the muggleborn from the States, aren’t you?”

She snorted with a smirk, “The name’s Marie, but yeah that’s me. I’m surprised the accent didn’t give me away.”

“To you, _we_ are the ones with the accent.” Hermione held out a hand to help her up and Marie gladly took it.

“I guess so…” Marie noticed that her wand was no longer in her possession. She frantically patted her robes in an attempt to find it, “Hey— _where’s my wand?”_ As Hermione examined the ground to find it Marie added another panicky inquiry towards Ron and Harry, “Have you seen my wand?” The two shook their heads.

“Ah, here it is!” Hermione studied it as she walked from the opposite end of the walkway. Before she gave it back she commented, “Redwood…. twelve inches?”

“Twelve and a _quarter_ ,” Marie corrected as it was returned to her, “Unicorn core, too,” she marveled at it for a moment while inspecting to catch any scuffs, “I’m just glad it didn’t break, y’know?” When she felt all three sets of eyes on her, she returned her wand to her front pocket. “Hearing how easy these things can break freaks me out like nothing else.” Another silence in response was her queue to wrap things up, “I should get going…Thanks for finding my wand, uh… _uh…”_ she snapped her fingers attempting to put a name to the helpful girl’s face.

“Hermione—Hermione Granger,” the girl’s smile was far from persecuting.

“Ah Hermione, that’s right! I’ve always been terrible with names. Well, thanks again, Her-- _Hermione._ You don’t know how much of a lifesaver you really are.” Marie finally turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” Granger called out just slightly above the library standard. When Marie spun around she continued with a gesture towards the scattered textbooks, “Your books! I mean…these are _your_ books, right?”

Marie gave a half shrug, “Nah, you can use them if you want. I was never really the studying type, anyway.”

“Well,” Hermione began picking them up, “it’s definitely not a bad habit to get into.”

Ron cut in with groan, _“Oh_ _Hermione,_ she’s _not_ interested! Let’s just _go_ already!”

With the few books now in her arms she faced him and languidly retorted, “I think she can answer for herself, Ronald,” she then met Marie’s eyes once more, “So what do you say? I’ve heard how great you are in Transfigurations and I would love to hear how you do it.”

Marie blushed at the rare compliment, “I mean if it’s not too much trouble…”

“Come on,” Granger excitedly tilted her head towards the table they initially vacated, “There’s an extra seat at the table we’re using.”

Once back the table, Marie couldn’t help feeling chargeable for spying on them. Part of her wanted to admit the folly, but she thought that as long she was on a ‘need to know’ basis they really didn’t need to know.

Sitting next to Hermione revealed that the large book was in fact about Transfiguration. It wasn’t long until she had to address it, “I think that book can cover it better than I ever could.”

Hermione actually disregarded the large text and placed it back on the table, “It only has _more_ information, not _better_ information.”

“Doesn’t that make it…well… _better?”_ Befuddlement was heavy in Marie’s inquiry.

“Though it is only our second week here, I’ve learned that ‘more’ is indeed not equivalent to better.”

It was hard for Marie to not think of Draco at that moment. She wondered how he would react after finding that out, or if he would ever figure it out at all. “Are you okay, Marie?” a concerned voice made her lock eyes with Harry Potter.

“Yeah, Potter. I’m good.” Marie smiled only with her mouth to get him off her back.

“He does have a first name, you know,” Ron indignantly defended his friend even when there was no real malice.

_“Ron—_

“No Hermione, it’s okay,” Marie reached for a book, “I guess Malfoy’s finally rubbing off on me. Sorry about that, Harry.” The smile that emanated was genuine this time.

“Are you sure you’re a Slytherin?” Ron asked with a raised eyebrow.

Before Granger could react, Marie answered with a chuckle from behind her book, “Honestly, I don’t think I should even be at this school—let alone a Slytherin.”

“The Hat did say you would’ve made a good Gryffindor,” Ron's voice finally began to relax.

“And a ‘wonderful Ravenclaw,’ don’t forget that now.” Marie grinned with enough contagion for Ron to laugh.

“Well you were sorted into Slytherin for a _reason_ ,” Hermione reminded with a mother’s tenacity.

“Yeah, let me know when you figure that reason out,” Marie jested with enough force to even make Harry titter.

The four started to share more laughter than study notes, but Marie kept getting the impression she was being watched. It wasn’t long until Harry and Ron’s eyes widened at something behind her.

 _“Goike?_ Is that really _you?”_ Malfoy sounded more shocked than tyrannizing as his voice drew closer with each step he took.

Marie turned in her chair to see if her ears were messing with her. With one look she concluded that her hearing was just fine. While replacing the book for her wand, she stood up to face the taller Slytherin.

“Take it easy, Marie. This _is_ a library,” Hermione spoke pacifyingly enough for her to momentarily forget the current apprehension.

“Must be nice for you to finally congregate with another mudblood,” Draco hissed that last part with a resonating glare at Granger. “I’d say have them over for tea, but I’m pretty sure Americans like you prefer bloody coffee.”

The sound of Ron fumbling his chair back and rising up was followed by a rather shaky sneer, “Picking on her for that is even low for you, _Malfoy.”_

“For once Weasley says something I can agree with,” Draco regarded Ron spitefully before returning to his main focus, “You shouldn’t be so seduced by the enemy, Goike. Believe it or not, they want nothing to do with you either.”

Ron engaged his wand, _“Piss off, Mal—_

Marie held up a hand that silenced him and challenged Draco herself, “I’m pretty sure I’m not good enough friends with you to take that advice.”

Draco grew irate and leaned in to deliver his final blow, “ _‘Friends_ ’ is the last thing I’ll be with you, muddy witch.” He then spun around and stomped off in the opposite direction ushering Thing 1 and 2 to follow him out.

Marie deflated with a sigh when she saw him exit the library and precariously placed her wand on the table but didn’t have the gumption to let it out of her grasp quite yet. She noticed Ron studying her out of the corner of her eye and when she turned to face the others she was met with looks of pity.

The last thing she wanted anyone to witness was her crying. So when her face grew hot and tears stung at her eyes, her feet moved her all the way out of the library.

When she wasn’t followed, Draco’s claim became that much more valid.


	3. When one Door Shuts, Another Opens

When the final bell rang to signify the end of Transfigurations and that school day, Marie found herself being woken up by it. No, she wasn’t asleep, but she was far from being awake. After rubbing the pure exhaustion from her eyes, she noticed the class was already empty.

“Marie?” Professor McGonagall couldn’t hide her concern, “You’re the last person who should be staying behind. Is everything alright, dear?”

Of course that reference to the fact of her skills no longer being a secret was inevitable. Though her list of received compliments was growing in length, Marie knew it would never catch up to the list of received abuse. Every day seemed to grow longer and more agonizing than the last. Even Einstein’s theory couldn’t have explained this.

Then again, no amount of science could’ve made any of this make sense.

“Yeah, I’m good, professor. I’m just tired.” Marie felt bad for lying to the only teacher she really liked, but it meant less time between now and when her head hit the pillow would go by. She then began to shuffle her way out of that stuffy classroom.

“I’ve been around way too long to easily accept _that_ excuse,” McGonagall’s words made her stop in her tracks just shy of the door.

Now Marie hated being called a liar, but if she couldn’t manage to palate the truth she shouldn’t make anyone else swallow it. She gingerly turned to face her teacher, “It’s just been a long week, that’s all.” The reassuring smile that followed was anything but.

“This week took up just as much time as last week did and next week won’t be any different,” when Marie’s eyes reverted to the floor the professor sighed, “Listen, you are the _best_ Transfigurator in your—

“Is that _ALL_ I am?!” Marie felt herself unhinge, “I mean, look—

She twisted her wrist in a quick, sideways figure eight and a blue light trailed from her wand towards a leftover quill and it transformed into the type of bird it was plucked from. With a shriek from the hawk, it was insured that the Avifors spell was indeed successful.

Marie furrowed her brow and nearly paid the remarkable feat no mind as the wand lowered, “Now I find that just as impressive as the next guy, but if you think for one minute _that_ is the paramount of my existence then I’ll just teach MYSELF!”

Since there was a lack of a rebuttal from her stunned professor, she defensively backed out of the room. However the exit was not complete without an unforeseen mutual glimpse with Draco. Marie immediately turned and ran past the doorway to disappear into the crowded corridor. Looks like she wasn’t the only one who stayed behind after all.

Marie practically wailed the password to the Slytherin dungeon and it didn’t go unnoticed. The brazen, lanky lady in the large painting came around to the front and didn’t care to hide her annoyance, “I’m not deaf you know— _Great Merlin_ , are you alright?”

Nearly every orifice on Marie’s face was ferociously leaking something. She managed to choke out, “I did _my_ job and said the password, now do _your_ job and let me in!” she wiped her eyes as she hoarsely addressed the obvious distress, “And for _God’s_ _sake_ just mind your own business!”

The frame unhinged and revealed the passageway into the depths of the dungeon, “And _you_ should really learn to _talk_ to someone, for _Merlin’s sake.”_

Ignoring the painting as she walked towards the common room was almost second nature at this point. But no amount of repetition could prepare anyone for the sight in front of her.

“Hey— _That’s my stuff!”_ Marie dropped her books and gripped her wand as she ran towards the scene.

Her fellow housemates were dumping drawers of her clothes on top of the only black leather couch in the common room. All of her trading cards, personal toiletries, and the rest of her small trinkets were scattered on and all around it. As icing on this sinister cake, her Gryffindor-themed knitted blanket was thoughtlessly thrown over it.

As Marie’s shoulders slumped in defeat, Pansy emerged from the side with the roaring fireplace warming her back. “We know that it’s _your_ stuff…In fact, that’s the _whole point.”_

Marie’s staggered sobbing was drenched in despondency, “ _You_ …. You _can’t_ …. You can’t p-possibly do _this….”_

“We _can_ and we _did,_ ” an obvious friend of Pansy’s now appeared attached to her side. The flames and green lamplight made both of their faces fiendish and nearly unrecognizable.

Then as if on queue, multiple housemates emerged from the shadows. One of the boys spoke from behind her, “It was decided with a house vote, Marie.”

What prompted her to turn toward the voice was the fact she couldn’t put a name to it. She locked eyes with this unacquainted peer and spat her retort, “As a _member_ of this house, I don’t remember hearing of a vote—let alone making a _decision.”_

“ _You?_ A ‘member’ of _this_ house?” Another boy rang out, “You spend more time with those _bloody_  Gryffindors and that stinking _Potter_ more than any one of us!” Marie jumped at the subsequent loud jeers that seemed to call out from every corner of the room.

_“Well…”_ she stumbled, “Well…Well _I_ was pretty sure none of you wanted anything to do with me in the _first place!”_

The first boy who spoke didn’t hesitate to deliver the final blow, “And with this we assure you that we _still_ don’t.” The sound of steps then began to scatter with the indication of this coup’s conclusion.

As she moseyed to the heap of her stuff, every ounce of her felt pathetic. With the only sound of life remaining being the crackle of almost dead wood burning at high heat, she began to aversely clean up the mess. “I guess this is my bed from here on—

The sound of a footfall silenced that statement and caused her to spin around towards the noise. She yelled at the darkness to whomever or whatever caused the sound, “Haven’t you _had_ enough? Can I at least _lick my wounds_ in peace?!” When there was no response, she vacated a spot by shoving part of the mess to the floor and fell onto the couch with a sob.

While she bawled her eyes out, she discounted the sound of fleeing footsteps that ended with the loud closing of a door into the boy’s side of accommodations.

* * *

 

It was hard to enjoy Saturday morning when you spent the whole of your Friday night cleaning up a mess you didn’t make. Freshening up in the common room’s small facility was definitely something Marie had to get used to. She uncaringly placed the bowl of cinnamon oatmeal in front of her on the table.

The Great Hall didn’t require attendance to breakfast on weekends, and she couldn’t help noticing the lack of peers—if she could even call them that at this point.

When she attempted to rub the fatigue out of her eyes for at least the fifth time now, she surrendered to starting in on her oatmeal when it was to no avail.

Malfoy and his duo of thugs always made sure that everyone knew that they have arrived no matter where they were. With the sound of clambering footsteps and unprecedented roars of laughter, Marie had to check that it was still early in the morning.

“It’s not even _nine_ yet…” she grumbled at the clock with an oatmeal-loaded spoon suspended over the bowl. She made accidental eye contact with the platinum blond ringmaster and couldn’t ignore his disheveled locks that lacked any kind of product.

When the stare lasted one second too long, Marie immediately shifted positions and put up the ‘I was looking past you’ act.

* * *

 

Draco still looked onward towards the sullen muggleborn and just couldn’t stomach the pang of guilt that struck him and in turn made him finally take a seat.

“She can’t keep her eyes off you, Malfoy,” the addressee involuntarily pushed his bangs back in response to Vincent’s comment. The absence of product made the strands fall right back into place, however.

Gregory sinfully added, “Yeah if she wasn’t a mudblood I’d _definitely_ have my way—

Draco’s hands slammed onto the table, “ _Enough!_ No one asked either of you _muppets_ for your _bloody opinions!”_

The looks Malfoy was left with were far more uncomfortable than satisfying. Vincent in a rare moment of clarity muttered with a restrained side-glance at the lonesome girl towards the far end, “We only did what _you_ wanted, sir.”

That allusion to the offhand comment Draco made during the first week made his skin crawl. Now standing with Crabbe by the collar, he seethed as quietly as he could, “You know that _suggestion_ was as baseless as the one towards _Potter!”_

Before any counteraction could be made, the commotion of messenger owls flooded the air above causing the skirmish to abruptly settle.

* * *

 

Seeing Malfoy have one of his goons by the neck was nothing new to Marie, even if the scene looked rather tense today. The friendly screech of Roxi, her messenger owl, pulled her away from the sight without delay.

“ _Roxi-boy!_ ” Marie petted her barn owl with the misconstrued girl’s name. The owl was first dubbed a female at purchase and nor she or her parents cared to amend the name after the revelation of the sex being the opposite.

After all, wasn’t a name just a name?

Two things came with Roxi this morning: a letter and a soft parcel. As Marie detached the mail from the bird, a coo of pity rose from him as he brushed against her hand.

As she turned the letter to see who the first sender was, she huffed a bitter chuckle, “Is it _that_ bad?” That was of course mention to her now rather tired appearance. The front of the letter revealed in steady cursive that the benefactor was indeed her mother. “Ah,” Marie began to rip at the opening flap with a tone of indiscretion, “let’s see what _Mommy Dearest_ has in store for me this time!”

While she drew out the neat stationary, Roxi cooed pathetically once more.

Before beginning the read, Marie had to comfort the poor owl the best way she could, _“Oh,_ _Rocks,”_ though the name never officially changed, it didn’t mean there wasn’t any masculine terms of endearment, “it’s just been a _long_ past few days. I’m sure it’ll clear up before ya know it!” The owl then looked with expectancy of any written replies. A long, drawn out sigh in response made the bird lower its head, “ _Sorry, dude._ I’ve just been so busy with school and…” a quick look at Draco made her witness to the reveal of his newly acquired Nimbus, “ _other_ things.” She sullenly returned her gaze to the letter and then Roxi. She scratched his head right where he liked best, “If anything changes, I’ll let you know,” when she stopped to gather his full attention she concluded, “Now get outta here, I’d reckon you’ve got a long flight back to London.”

She fared a warm smile as the barn owl took an almost silent ascent. It wilted into a frown once the bird was far from sight. She then finally began to read the memo.

_Dear Marie, my wonderful daughter,_

It wasn’t even the first line and this letter had already earned a major eye roll. She continued with heavy reluctance.

_These letters would be of more substance if you thought of writing back._

Only the first line and the complaints were already fuming. Again, she read on unwillingly.

_However as long as I’m able to keep tabs on you at school, your replies aren’t entirely necessary—though they are appreciated. Anyway, if you need help in Potions you shouldn’t be afraid to ask for it…that goes for every other class, too._

She obviously had no idea who Snape was.

_As for me and your father, we’re doing rather well in London. While I’m still not over your rash decision that displaced us here, I can’t deny it’s a nice change of pace. The package that hopefully came with this letter is from your dad. He was adamant of not telling me what it was, so I hope it’s a good surprise._

Marie adjusted the letter to view the bottom half with a fleeting glance towards the ‘surprise’ package.

_Now I know I’ve shown my displeasure in your endeavors more than I would like…but if you’re truly happy at Hogwarts, I can’t stop you from going. For all I know you could be too busy with friends to write back. I just want you to know that I love you and so does your father even if we’re not in the same house. And if you are struggling, just put my voice to what Uncle Red says, “Remember I’m pulling for ya, we’re all in this together.”_

_Love you always,_

_Mom_

 

_P.S. Though you and I have never met your paternal Grandfather, I’m positive he’s watching over you now more than ever._

Her eyes stung from overtly growing wet for what’s felt like the thousandth time. She didn’t hesitate violently rumpling up the Big Ben themed stationary and tossing it aside. The wad of parchment fell into the aisle-way between tables with a crinkle. Marie’s head fell into her hands as she completely forgot about the neighboring parcel.

* * *

 

 

Malfoy never felt more like a king as his friends marveled at the luxurious, custom Nimbus 2000.

“It’s so _shiny,_ ” Goyle reached out to touch it and his hand was quickly slapped away.

_“Don’t touch it!”_ Draco hissed, “Look with your _eyes,_ not your _hands,_ you git!”

As the troublesome trio finally sat down from ogling at it, they couldn’t ignore the fit being thrown along with a crumpled letter by Goike. As her hands muffled her sniffling, Vincent’s voice drew Draco's attention back to what mattered—but not without a notion at the obvious, “Muddy witch probably had that comin’ to her,” as Malfoy turned to face his newly acquired prized-possession, he couldn’t help looking back at her as he grazed the broom.

Draco knew that whatever he said next would be a pinnacle moment for him. He couldn’t tell you why even if he wanted to. As his hand left the Nimbus and his eyes gave one final glance at his friends and back to her, he felt himself rise up.

“Where you going, boss?” Goyle asked as he hesitantly rose with him.

“ _Sit down._ I’m only…” he absently glanced around and saw the bathroom was in her general direction, “I’m only just going to the loo. Now unless you want to raise some eyebrows I suggest _having a seat.”_

As Goyle plopped back into his chair Draco added one last remark before setting off, “And for the love of Merlin, _hands off my Nimbus!”_

* * *

 

As she heard someone walking towards her, Marie swiftly ended her crying session. When she saw it was Draco ambling by she also noticed he was on a direct path towards her crumpled letter. Before she could respond he stopped short before it and bent to pick it up. The only deterrent she could manage was a meek hiccup, “No— _don’t!”_

Of course a sadist doesn’t take orders from a masochist and Malfoy gladly stood across from her and revealed the scrunched letter like a scroll. She was surprised when he didn’t begin reading it aloud. It was more of shock when he pulled up a seat directly athwart from her and let his eyes scan the page with determination.

When his eyes darted from the note to the unopened package he took a double take as he realized it wasn’t ripped open yet. “Your parcel,” Draco lowered the wrinkled letter back onto the table and replaced it with the bundle. His soft eyes finally met her tired ones as he squeezed the malleable container and soon offered it to her, “You haven’t opened it yet. It says it’s a surprise and I hope whatever’s in here isn’t _still_ _alive.”_

Marie yanked the package away from him and kept it close as she numbly initiated unwrapping it. While fumbling with the tape she grumbled to him, “It’s nothing _alive,_ Malfoy,” When she threw it back towards him, she continued her gripe as he caught it, “What’s it matter to you, anyway? I thought you’d be the first to enjoy my obvious agitation.”

Draco looked up as he attempted to open it for her, “Only if _I’m_ the direct cause of it, mudblood,” he insured that with a grin as she rolled her eyes at his term of endearment.

The parcel finally opened with a sudden rip and he didn’t hesitate to pull the remaining wrapping away. _“Mittens?”_

Marie’s face lit up like Christmas as she recognized what it was, _“Oh_ _wow!”_ She took the knitted pair from Draco and put them on. They fit like their glove counterpart. “I can’t believe he remembered,” she gaped at the thick, close mustard yellow knit.

“Are mittens scarce for you muggles?” Malfoy raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Marie rolled her eyes with the warmest smile he’s seen in ages, “ _No,_ Malfoy. _Look,"_  she took hold of the nearly seamless top half and pulled it back and wrapped the loose string loop on top around a large, dark button on the back. She repeated the process on the other hand and twiddled her now unrestricted digits in the secret fingerless gloves. When Draco’s eyes widened at the spectacle she added, “They’re called convertible mittens for obvious reasons. I heard that there’s a lot of going in and out of cold weather here and I’d like to keep my fingers nimble and protected.”

“Can’t you just turn someone’s quill into a pair?” his banter lacked any real malice.

Her content laughter startled Draco, “Now that you mention it, I never actually thought of that.”

His soothing smile startled Marie, “Well I’m not one who runs short of good ideas.”

As she took off her gloves and gingerly set them aside, her frame finally began the slow release of tension, “You know, I was soclose to just throwing the package out.” When her gaze met his, the beam that followed unhinged him as well, “Thanks for, uh-- helping me face my demons.” Her eyes averted at her admission of gratitude.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard for you turn those _demons_ into birds, Marie,” Draco’s first real use of her first name definitely had her attention.

She chuckled bleakly, “Are my Transfiguration skills _really_ that impressive?”

Draco spluttered from disbelief, “ _Impressive?!_ The way you turned that quill into a hawk was _bloody brilliant!”_

Marie never thought she would hear such an earnest compliment from the boy. Then again, she never thought her housemates would earnestly dump her things onto the couch as a proverbial kick to the curb either. The blush that sprawled onto her face was anything but subtle.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his two thugs fumbling with a fancy broom. “Isn't that yours?” Marie pointed at them practically fighting over it.

“Oh _Merlin_ ,” Draco rose with a hiss, “I told them _not to touch it!”_

“Looks like they’re really copping a feel,” Marie jested. When Malfoy started towards them she halted him, “Drake, _wait!”_

He spun around and gave a confused look, “I know you don’t have the luxury of hearing my first name much, but it’s _Draco._ Now what do you want—and make it quick because I’ve got things to take care of!” He gestured hastily towards the conflict.

“It’s nothing; go do what you have to do,” she looked back down at the table.

With an indignant sigh he focused on her, “It’s obviously _something,_ so _out with it!”_

She shakily met his gaze, “I just wanted to know if this was a one time thing. You know, so I _don’t_ get my hopes up…?”

Draco relaxed enough to reply with clarity, “For the most part, it was.”

Marie let that sink in momentarily, “Okay, Drake. Just remember I’m here if you ever want to talk.”

His focus was haphazardly geared at the duo as he nodded, “I’ll consider it—and for Merlin’s sake, it’s _Draco!”_ She giggled at how he roared at the numbskulls to let go of his broom as he ran towards them wielding his wand.

Marie couldn't help thinking that maybe when one door shut, another actually did open. 


	4. Forget Me Not

_Circa Three Years Later..._

Marie fussed with her newly shortened locks in the reflection of the locomotive’s window, “How on _Earth_ did my hair get so wavy? I swear it’s something I ate.” She huffed in defeat as her hair sustained to be wild even after the generous pruning. The only thing that really stayed stagnant was her rough, linear bangs. She concluded that her messy hair was merely an aesthetic reflection of her existence. “I honestly think I’m the only one who could pull this hairstyle off,” with one last forbearing sigh she sunk into the booth’s cushion, “And I really don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

A sudden knock on the compartment's door made her aim her wand at the perpetrator. The cart lady held up her hands in surrender, “Don’t shoot!”

The wand lowered with an exhale of relief, _“Oh, it’s only_ \-- Sorry about that, ma’am.”

The nearly vacant compartment was beyond her capacity to ignore, “Pardon my intrusion, dear, but where's your friend?”

 _“Friend?”_ Marie gave a stumped look, “Now I know I don’t have the plural of that word, but I wasn’t aware that I had the singular version either.”

The old woman leaned onto her cart with a haughty chuckle. When she met eyes with a still confused witch, she rolled her eyes, _“Dear,_ it’s no secret that you and that boy are attached at the hip.”

Marie facetiously checked her sides to see if anyone was attached, then she realized whom the lady was talking about. “Are you talking about Drake?” When the woman couldn’t decipher the name she clarified, _“Draco_ Malfoy; that blond kid that’s too cocky for his own good? Is that who you’re thinking of?”

Marie relaxed when the woman nodded in confirmation and then appeared as if she suddenly remembered something, “Now that I think about it, I believe I saw him alone in his compartment--much like you!”

She couldn’t stifle the laugh that escaped her. When she noticed the cart lady wasn’t joking, Marie quickly quelled her titter, _“Are you serious?”_ As she stood up, walked over, and looked side-to-side past the glass door she questioned restlessly, “Do you remember what cart he was in? Maybe I can show him my new doo before the feast after all.” When the lady stared at her in response Marie quickly added, _“And_ so I can see how ugly he got! _Geez,_ it’s not like he’s my boyfriend!”

With a final unconvinced smile the lady spilt the beans, “He’s in the next cart over,” she pointed to Marie’s right. “Don’t forget your wand, and one more thing,” she let Marie retrieve it before continuing, “I’ve never seen that boy have that much fun with any other girl but you,” as she began to open the door the lady started down the other way while handing her a Chocolate Frog, “Then again, I’ve never seen him that happy with his blokes, either.”

Marie stood aimlessly in the narrow leeway staring down at her favorite candy. She called out in her direction, “I already collected the whole set though!” When she glanced back down at the Frog, she realized that was only from the help of Draco. Before Marie could thank her for remembering, the lady was already gone.

* * *

 

Draco fiddled with his new wand due to the fact there was no one around who could ridicule him for it. He continued to toy with it until he sighted an onlooker, “Fancy seeing _you_ here, _Goike.”_

She opened the unlocked door and slipped inside, “I do  _still_ go to this school, _Drake,_ ” she gestured to his wand with her own, “I hope I’m not interrupting such an intimate moment.”

As she plopped down next to him he let out a healthy sigh while disregarding his new tool, “ _Marie,_ how many times do I have to remind you that my name is Draco?”

“Until you finally admit that you like it,” her eyes hinted monkeyshine. He had to chuckle at that.

Draco promptly changed the subject with the help of his self-importance, “Who gave you the permission to come in here, anyway?”

Marie looked about the compartment and said, “Well considering you’re the only one in here, technically _you_ did.”

“I don’t remember doing such a thing,” as much as he would never divulge it, he missed bantering with her more than anything else.

“Well I’m sure as hell not opposed to leaving,” she gave a look that this session of banter was hers.

With his arm now crooked and propped on the window, he leaned into his hand and grumbled, _“Cheeky.”_

Draco snapped his head towards the girl when he felt her head fall onto his shoulder. He was petrified when she slid the wand from his limp hand, “Well it’s still shorter than mine, that’s for sure.” As she compared his wand to hers, the wizard let his free shoulder’s arm stretch from the window to pluck his weapon from the witch.

“It’s not a toy,” he remarked tensely. Malfoy hoped she would blame it on confiscating his wand.

Her upward glance from his shoulder nearly made him squirm, “The way you were playing with it earlier could’ve fooled me.”

He looked down at her both physically and metaphorically, “You do happen to be very gullible, mudblood.”

“Look!” she blatantly ignored his statement to excitably point at the castle growing closer in the distance. Draco moved to free his arm as she leaned into the glass, but she fell back into her position now right into the crook of his arm. With his right hand now neighboring her waist and his mind beginning to cloud up, she continued to awe at it.

He had to say something— _anything_ to get him back down to Earth. As he momentarily observed the castle and let her slightly sink into him, he just said what initially came to mind, “How can you be so excited to see something you’ve seen so many times before?”

Marie finally released him by slanting away to get a better look at the scenery and to send him a crooked glance, “With your pureblooded mind, I’m pretty sure you can figure out that castles aren’t really a thing where I’m from.”

As his arm recoiled back to his side, he paid homage to his brief, American geography class with a final glance towards the school, “Trust me, _I can,”_ he was now sharing his grey gaze with her brown one.

“Your eyes can be a pretty blue sometimes, Drake,” Marie’s eyes crinkled and sparkled with amusement.

When her face returned back to normal, he finally noticed her restyling, “Your hair’s different.”

She gave him a playful, but well-deserved shove, _“Took you long enough!_ I swear you can’t even see past your own nose sometimes.”

Draco couldn’t help noticing an eyelash had fallen on one of her ruddy cheeks. With a careful index finger that silenced her when it met her complexion, he managed to remove it while still making it stick to his finger. He held it up to her and explained the endeavor, “Eyelash; it must’ve fell out.” He then pinched it and let his arm fall back to his side.

Marie posed with her hands lightheartedly on her face and fluttered her eyes, “They go for miles don’t they?” When Draco rolled his eyes she cackled and gave his shoulder a kind squeeze.

 

 

_Arrival at Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be in approximately five minutes._

 

The announcement caused them both to look up and around.

She then stood up with her wand in tow and Malfoy instantly inquired her displacement, “Where are you going?”

Marie shook her head with a smirk, “Says the guy that wanted to see my permission slip before entering. Anyway, I gotta head back to my own compartment. My stuff happens to be in there, y’know?”

Draco could never get over that midwestern accent, “Will I see you in the Great Hall?”

“I don’t know where else I could be, but yeah I’ll see you inside,” she exited the compartment with a heartfelt, departing smile.

He then let his head fall back into the cushion and let out a quiet breath, “My fourth year at Hogwarts,” his eyes fell shut at the sobering thought, “I promise I won’t let you down this time, Father.”

When he stood up and began rummaging for his things, Draco noticed an unopened Chocolate Frog that he knew wasn’t there before. As he picked it up and studied it, the memory of Marie’s thrill when they collected the last card was freshly imprinted into his mind. He said he would only do it if she helped him on tests, but he really wanted to complete the set as much as she did.

Heavy thuds of belligerent knocking made the packaged candy fall from his fingers. He made glaring eye contact to his two blundering cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

“Let us in! Let us in!” The two chanted and banged on the door until Draco pulled the door open.

As the duo nearly fell inside and started pillaging for their things, Malfoy grilled them for their desertion, “And _where_ did you two buggers run off to?”

Crabbe gathered his stuff haphazardly and answered, “One word: birds.”

Draco knew that they would eventually shift their interests from food to girls, but he didn’t think it would be to his disconcertment.

The sound of a wrapper ripping open and a Frog being shoved into Goyle’s mouth muffled his following groan, “Ugh, Dumbledore _again!”_ Looks like they’ve only added girls to their short list of interests, since food appeared far from being replaced.

As Draco took hold of his carry-on, he couldn’t help picking up the torn trading card that was abandoned on the floor as they clumsily exited.

* * *

 

 

_The cards were spread in order of rarity and importance—Drake, isn’t that the same thing?! It’s clearly not, Goike—and they were illuminated in all of their glory by the raging fireplace._

_“You should be the one who takes them home, Drake! After all, I don’t even think I’m allowed to take them home…” Marie was_   _just_   _too nice for her own good._

_“Nonsense. My father wouldn’t approve of me taking more importance to kiddy stuff than my schoolwork. Besides, they’re just cards—I’m certain that you muggles have those kind of things.”_

_“But that’s pretty much what you did—And those ‘muggle’ cards of mine don’t have moving pictures!”_

_“Not a word of that leaves here! And it’s not like trading cards are too popular in your world, anyway.”_

_Her laugh bounced off the warm flames, “Okay, okay…I’ll take them home, but I’ll have your head if the Ministry gets on my ass!”_

_“It’s not ladylike to swear, Marie.”_

_“If only you were that adamant towards your homework instead of that old thinking... You might’ve actually beaten out me and Granger!”_

_“That may be true, but we wouldn’t have completed the set if I was thinking straight.”_

_“Drake, you never fail when you strive to be right… even if it makes you look bad in the end.”_

_Now standing, a servant’s bow was taken, “Draco Malfoy, at your service.”_

_“Ugh,” she began to gather the loot in a neat pile, “Go to bed, Malfoy. You need your beauty sleep more than I do.”_

_“Cheeky.”_

_She pointed towards the boy’s dorms, “Bed. Now!”_

* * *

 

As Draco exited the train, he pitched the half-torn Dumbledore into a nearby bin. He couldn’t help finally understanding Marie’s giddiness towards the castle before him. With his focus back on entering the school instead of gaping at it, he conclusively muttered, “Here we go again…”


	5. Setting Limits While Expanding Boundaries

Draco and Marie usually didn’t sit close during the Inaugural Feast. They always managed to be sitting at the same table, but both always kept a few seats in-between and settled for exchanging snide glances instead of equally vile comments.

Both would tell you that they despised this peculiar situation, but their reasons were as personal as the seating arrangement itself.

Malfoy had a keen reputation to maintain and Goike didn’t want to be the one who got in the way. Simple, but personal.

However Marie just couldn’t help it when she saw that Draco was seated alone this year. Sure everyone was still arriving in the Hall, but she already felt herself pull up a seat directly across from him. “You know for personal bodyguards, they really left you to fend for yourself this time.”

Draco met eyes with her and nearly smiled before he realized she was actually sitting down, “What do you think you’re doing?”

As she scooted in, Marie replied with an arched eyebrow, “Uh, _sitting?_ We’ve sat together at lunch more than enough times for it to be weird.”

Draco frantically looked side-to-side to make sure no one was paying attention before he leaned in and angrily whispered, _“You can’t! Not here!_ People will get the wrong idea!”

Marie’s shoulders relaxed as she gave a shrewd chuckle, “I think they’ve had the wrong idea since Hogsmeade, Drake.”

She was right, of course. No one would ever let them forget how they both actually went inside Madam Puddifoot’s when Marie was in search of a fresh brew and Draco had to foot the bill due to her lack of Galleons.

Draco returned upright in his seat and smoldered through flared nostrils, “We both agreed that was an _accident._ Don’t tell me you were _actually_ trying to pull—

“I stand by our statement as much as I did last year,” she cut him off and didn’t hesitate to continue, “I’m just saying that you can’t convince someone of something they already believe in.”

Fellow Slytherins began to fill the chairs next to them and Draco felt the need to make an accusation to uphold his already weakening prestige, “I hope that wasn’t a jab at me, _witch.”_

As she bumped elbows and ignored the following glares she gave a snide response, “If the shoe fits, Cinderella,” now slanted slightly towards him she softly concluded without breaking eye contact, “And _‘mudblood’_ would’ve been a better word to hit me where it really hurts, _Drakey-boy.”_

Before he could pounce on her for that spitefully silly sobriquet, Dumbledore gathered the Hall’s attention and began his annual speech.

* * *

 

 

_“Great Merlin,_ Marie! Could you pile any more food on that plate?” Draco thought that her loaded dish would make even ravenous Crabbe and Goyle nervous.

She shoveled a spoonful of cranberry sauce into her mouth as she countered, “Is that a _challenge?_ ” When she swallowed it and went after the goose on her plate the chewing muffled her following statement, “If I was a guy, you wouldn’t have even given me a second thought.”

“Even a bloke twice your size wouldn’t eat that much,” Draco gave an irritated huff at how fast she was woofing it down, “Marie, _slow down._ This isn’t the muggle world where food runs out.”

In response she melodramatically let her fork and knife drop on top of the meat she was cutting. Folding her arms away from the table she scoffed, “Never a missed opportunity when it comes to putting down my heritage, _eh_ Malfoy?”

Draco lowered his own utensils with much more dexterity, “You know that wasn’t meant to be— _Listen,_ I just don’t want you to be disappointed when you realize you can’t clean off your plate. That’s all.”

As he resumed slicing the meat on his dish, Marie returned to her own with a newfound grace, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that almost sounded like you cared.”

With a forkful of turkey hovering over his plate, he gave her cold eyes that were quickly thawed by his smile, “And I thank Merlin that you’re not as ignorant as you look.”

“Gee _thanks, dude,”_ her stern words faltered when she could no longer repress the giggles.

It wasn’t long until Draco couldn’t hold himself together either. If it was possible to laugh so hard and keep their eyes open, they might have saw the other students give them uncomfortable glances.

Marie soon gathered herself while wiping away tears of amusement, _“Man,_ school hasn’t even _started_ yet and I’m already looking forward to the train home.”

As he wound down his own titter, Draco unyieldingly shared his concern, _“Why?_ It’s not like _your_ father is always breathing down your neck.”

“Drake, I’m positive your father knows you’re not old enough to put your name into the Goblet.”

The way he began offhandedly toying with his food made her forget about her own. He didn’t even look at her as he slightly hinted that his father’s wishes weren’t exactly pure, “It’s not _that._ It’s just…”

Marie leaned in with a caring interest, “It’s just… _what?”_

When his eyes met hers it was obvious that this was risky territory, “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just finish eating what you can; the Feast is almost over.” He then attempted to follow his own advice.

_“Draco,”_ the despondency in the way she said his real name made him look up. She then quickly subdued it with a poke at herself, “I’m actually full. Turns out my eyes _were_ bigger than my stomach.” When eye contact was lost, Marie finally submitted to showing sympathy, “I know that the business between you and your family is strictly your own…but as someone who’s gone against her parents’ wishes more than once I can honestly say that being his child doesn’t make you his pawn.”

His fists angrily slammed the table, but when she wasn’t entirely deterred he hissed, _“You are the LAST person that should act like they understand!”_

Marie felt like she was looking into a mirror, “I know.” When she was met with a stormy glare that she hadn’t seen since early in their first year, she gingerly placed a hand on his wrist, “But here I am, attempting the impossible. Maybe you could do the same and tell me what’s really under your skin one day. I—

_“NEVER!”_ the boom of his voice silenced the table as he suddenly stood up, _“I’LL NEVER TALK TO YOU ABOUT ANYTHING, YOU FILTHY, MUDDY WITCH!”_

The look of pure fear on Marie’s face was scarier than anything he could ever scream at her.

“Mr. Malfoy, please sit down,” The low, steady rumble of Dumbledore caused Draco to comprehend the number of scrutinizing eyes now on him.

His shoulders fell in response as he gazed at the witch responsible. He had never seen her eyes so dusky and doleful as she mouthed the word ‘sorry.’ With one final scan of the room, Draco drooped back into his chair.

As if nothing even happened, the noise of people eating and talking recommenced. However, both Marie and Draco finished their meal in silence.

* * *

 

Back at the Slytherin dungeon, Marie was reacquainted with her favorite couch. As she grazed her hand against the leather upholstery, a familiar snicker brought her attention to an old roommate.

“Pansy,” she began with apprehension, “I hope our agreement still stands this year.”

Not long after the common room fiasco, she confronted Parkinson with how the only bathroom available to her had no shower. After brief negotiation, Pansy permitted access to the facility they once shared. The logic was just too sound to dismiss without facing dire consequences.

“If you keep your word, I’ll keep mine,” Pansy’s strict glower quickly turned maleficent, “After that scolding from Draco, I’m guessing you want to wash the filth off you. Too bad you’re forever _covered_ in it.”

Marie couldn’t help glancing through the small gathering around a nearby table at him playing Wizard’s chess. Every time they played together Draco claimed white for the priority. She faintly smiled at the fact that this time was no different.

His face sprawled into that devilish grin that only appeared when he had you in check. Below his wicked expression, the white rook piece brutally attacked the opposing red queen. Draco then sinfully snarled towards his challenger, _“Off with her head!”_

Since that was always something Marie had said during games when she took out his pieces with her queen, she wondered if she was just imagining things. The last thing she expected was to make eye contact from that distance. The focus shifted as quickly as it was made, however. If he held her gaze for one second longer she was certain the crowd would’ve turned towards her.

“He’s as cunning as he is gorgeous,” Marie had to turn to see if she heard Pansy actually say that. Her suspicion was confirmed when Pansy started to bashfully backpedal, “I mean—I think even a _manky_ mudblood like you can see that.” The way Parkinson defensively folded her arms through her scarlet cheeks was almost cute.

She gave a fleeting glance towards Malfoy before her prickly response, _“Uh…_ Yeah, sure... he’s alright I guess.” The convincing nod that followed was far from secure.

“I should have never expected a _trollop_ like you to understand,” Pansy began to subconsciously twirl her hair as she focused her attention onto him, “It’s a shame that he wastes time with such an _unenlightened_ _halfwit_ like you.” She leaned onto the couch entranced by her own thoughts, “I never expected him to make a reference to a muggle story like Alice in Wonderland, though. In fact, I’m almost certain that his father didn’t allow him to touch those kinds of books. To rebel for the sake of literature is _so…”_ the way she melted onto the back of the sofa made Marie look for something to scrape her off.

“Yes, I’m sure he’s very nice,” she patted and pulled at Pansy’s shoulder to pry her away from the couch. Marie yelped as her hand was whacked away.

_“Get your paws off me!”_ She increased the distance between Marie and the couch, “It’s not _his_ fault that he understands your muggle literature better than you! I just hope you have the grace to inform him that it would be more appropriate if he had the red pieces…but then again, I’m pretty sure I lost you when I mentioned a _book title.”_

The fact that she actually thought Draco was some silent literary crusader that only leaked his whereabouts during the intensity of a chess match was difficult for anyone to ignore. Marie could have attempted to inform her of the obvious source of his information, but she settled for letting bygones be bygones. “I’ll be taking my shower now. I leave you to your thoughts.”

As Marie began to walk towards the girl’s dorms with nightclothes in tow, she fumbled in her pocket to reach her room key and managed to pull it out without her wand. Pansy called to her before a second stride could be taken, “I’m going to ask him to the Ball whether you like it or _not_ , _Goike.”_

This caused her to spin back around, _“Ball?_ Like the _Yule_ Ball? Isn’t it a little early to be staking claims?”

Pansy gave an inquisitive arched brow, “Jealous much?” Even Marie knew she walked into that one.

_“Hardly,”_ she scoffed more at the insult’s lack of creativity than the claim itself.

Pansy pointed her wand close to Marie’s face and viciously retorted, “Watch out, _little Missy._ I perfected a curse that can _kill_ and once I pull Draco far away from you you’ll be _wishing_ I ended you right here and now.”

Marie squeamishly directed the opposing wand away from her face, “Well until then Pansy, _I have a shower to take._ Good day,” with a final nod she made her exit.

* * *

 

Since lights out was at eleven, Marie went over her yearly syllabus and schedule one last time with the guiding light of her wand. She had no idea why she felt the need to memorize it, but she concluded it was better to be safe than sorry—or in her case, late to class.

When she heard the sudden sound of a footfall, her head rose from the parchment towards it. Seeing only darkness in front of her, Marie returned her focus to her paperwork. “Take it from me, kid. You’re gonna need _all_ the sleep you can get these first few weeks,” she spoke into the shadows without removing her eyes from the paper.

“You should really learn to take your own advice. _Lumos,_ ” the wand illuminated at the command to reveal the perpetrator’s face.

Marie glanced up to get a look at the person coming closer, _“Oh…_ I thought you were a first year, Draco.”

As Malfoy sat down next to her he scoffed quietly, “With this formal-name basis I find myself in, we might as well be first years.”

Lowering the parchment onto her knees, she tilted her head towards him, “Keep your wand lit. _Nox,”_ the light dissipated from her wand and Draco stuck his in the cushion crease to have a steady form of light between them. While tucking her wand away, she continued with a sigh, “I honestly thought you hated my nicknames.”

_“I do,_ but I hate it more when you stop using them in spite of me,” he was met with her puzzled glance and quickly changed subjects, “So what’s tonight’s late night read?” Draco vaguely gestured at the paperwork.

Marie gave a silent smile of victory and promptly picked up the scroll-like document, “Oh this? Just my syllabus and schedule—Here have a look,” she handed him the parchment.

As Draco took grasp of it he plucked his wand from the center of the crease and let it help him read the text. He hovered the personal light source closer to the paper as if he was reading it incorrectly, _“Bloody hell.”_

“What? _What’s wrong, Drake?”_ Marie scooted in closer to see what he was seeing.

He put down his wand and hastily drew out a folded paper from his back pocket and passed it to her. “Unfold it and tell me when you figure it out.”

She looked at him with apprehension as she unfolded it. His wand’s displacement made it dim enough to pull out her own, “Lumos.” As the wrinkled paper was illuminated, her jaw dropped at the text before her, _“No way—_ That _can’t_ be right,” Marie was frantic as she looked at Draco, down at the paper he was holding, and back to the paper in front of her, “My eyes are known for playing tricks on me. _Gimmie that!”_

Draco quickly pulled away as she attempted to snatch it from him, “I’m a Seeker for a _reason,_ Marie. Just have your wand illuminate my schedule and I’ll do the same for you.”

She felt her nostrils flare, _“Ugh!_ Fine.” As they brought together their wand-lit documents like pieces to a puzzle, they both gaped at their assumptions being confirmed. “How can we have the _same_ classes four years in a row?”

Of course their first year schedule wasn’t technically the same, but since every year after—this year being no different—had no variations, they weren’t shy on lumping it together.

As they exchanged the documents back to their rightful owners, Draco hissed as he gave his a final scan, “I’m certain that this is some kind of _sick_ game.”

Marie also gave hers a last look, “Well considering our reputation,” she looked up at him, “I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. _Nox,_ ” Her wand extinguished its light.

While she set aside her syllabus, Draco placed his wand back into the cushion crease and folded up his own, _“Our_ reputation?” He gave a raised eyebrow as he tucked it into his back pocket, “I’m pretty sure ‘to each his own’ reigns, Marie.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “Stupid doesn’t look good on you, Drake. Now you know as well as I do that while it’s usually _‘to each his own’_ , people are prone to coagulating.”

“Coagu _—what?”_ Draco tried to keep it serious, but he couldn’t help giggling.

Marie nearly endeavored to clarify, but settled for a playful shove and laughed with him. As the two settled down she changed the subject, “I talked to Pansy today.”

Malfoy sank back into the leather upholstery and turned his head to face her, “All good, I hope.”

She didn’t hesitate to follow suit and sighed through her reply, “Nothing far from the usual, I’m afraid.”

He picked his head off the cushion with keen interest, “What did she say to you?”

Marie chuckled at his sudden apprehension, _“Settle down._ It’s nothing to write home about.” As he returned to his relaxed position she continued, “Just some smite sprinkled in with my rooming arrangements,” she gesticulated about the couch they sat on, “Like I said, nothing out of the ordinary.” The witch then sent a sly glance towards him, “But there was _one_ thing…”

Draco turned to face her with haste. When she paused to meet his eyes with her own, he could tell whatever she said next was going to be interesting, _“Well?_ I don’t like cliffhangers, Goike.”

“Well you’re bound to find out eventually,” she turned her face towards the darkness, “But the least I can do is ruin her surprise. So I’ll just say it: Pansy’s gonna ask you to the Yule Ball.”

He sank into the couch and chuckled at the lackluster climax, “All that for something I already expected?” His fingers ran through his hair as he gave a haughty breath, “It’s a little early for her to be staking claims, don’t you think?”

Marie cackled her response, _“That’s exactly what I said!_ She just accused me of jealousy when it’s obvious that _she’s_ the one green with envy.”

Draco placed a gentle hand just shy of her shoulder, “Well I’m certain many girls would kill to be in your position, Marie.”

She was quick to give him a crooked glance, _“Oh yeah,_ I bet that they _all_ want to be a muggleborn in a house full of asshats that think blood type matters. _For sure, dude.”_  The laugh that followed oozed with bitterness.

Draco allayed her cackle as his hand trailed down her arm and gave a friendly, conclusive squeeze of her forearm, “Now I wouldn’t wish that on my _worst_ enemy,” as his eyes met hers he continued, “but I bet all my Galleons that they want the friend—..."

_“Friendship_ we share?” Marie gave his sentence an ending.

“Uh…” his arm recoiled back to his side as he sputtered like a Model T, “Su- _Sure._ That’s… _that’s a_ …that’s a _good_ …that’s a way to word it.” He nodded in confirmation at his conclusion, “Yeah, that’s a way to word it.” The mouth-exclusive smile aimed at her was met with Marie’s almost maniacal laughter, _“What!_  And _quiet down_ —we’re not even supposed to be up right now…” Draco’s eyes nervously darted around at thought of being caught.

She wiped her eyes as she wound back down, _“Ah,_ _Drake…_ ” with one last chuckle she was back to Earth, “Drake, you shouldn’t be afraid to use that word. It’s just as valid as ‘mudblood’ and all those other cutesy terms you have.”

“Friendship, friend, buddy, bloke, crony, and even an American _‘dude._ ’ See? I can say it just fine.” He glowered when she lightly giggled.

_“Whatever_ you do, let _me_ be the one who uses ‘dude.’ Anyway, I meant use it in context,” before Draco could conjure another list she pressed on, “ _Save it._ It’s not like it’s gonna be on the next exam. Even Rome wasn’t built in a day, y’know.”

As the witch sighed into the back cushion, Draco quietly simmered and looked onward at the room’s shadows with her. He replayed the conversation back at the Feast along with his thoughts during that time. His eyes fell shut to cloak him in a personal darkness that he was firm to never let anyone see. The Sandman came to everyone and when he arrived for Draco he had to nearly force his eyes open. Apparently this was a dual visit since he overheard Marie yawn languidly.

His wand was still propped up in-between them as it began to dim as wakefulness escaped the owner and his nearby friend. _Friend,_ the term and all its synonyms lingered in his mind. It was followed by what the word stood for and how he heard others define it. He remembered a fleeting memory of what looked like a relative telling him fondly, _‘A friend is someone you share all your secrets with.’_

Draco then heard a younger version of himself ask the same question he had now, _‘Even the scary ones?’_

A small chuckle was followed by the answer, _‘Especially the scary ones, Draco. Because if they really are your friend,’_ he shifted his gaze towards Marie, _‘they’ll be the first to fight your demons and you’ll be the first to fight theirs.’_

“Marie,” with no response he shook her shoulder, “Marie come on, it’s important.”

She was released from his grasp as she spluttered awake, _“Huh, what—where?”_  When her sleep-ridden gaze met his she rubbed her eyes, “Oh it’s just you, Drake,” she adjusted to sit more upright, “What’s up?”

“I…” Draco was certain he had the words and couldn’t figure out why they seemed to escape him, “I…I just…” When he felt her expecting eyes on him, he realized that this wasn’t the time to be opening closets to count skeletons. It had to happen, just not now. “I just wanted to apologize for my actions back in the Hall.”

Her smile was far from persecuting, “Very high of you,” her hand grasped his forearm, "but I know that isn’t the meat and potatoes of what you've got to say.”

He looked down at her small hand, “You’re right,” he then locked eyes with her, “I also wanted to say that I can’t tell you what’s going on right now," his eyes darted away but soon found their way back, "but I _can_ say that one day I think I’ll be able to answer any questions you might have.”

As her hand returned to her side, Marie felt that maybe this gap wasn’t as vast as she once thought. She watched his head lower and comforted him in response, “And when that day comes, I might even tell you what’s hiding under my veil.”

Draco looked up at her with sober eyes, “You’re running from yourself too?”

Her eyes began to feel wet and she concealed it with a chuckle, “I think to some point we all are, Drake,” Marie paused before enduring her words with much more resolve, “Until we realize that fear isn’t defined by the pureness of our blood or our beliefs, we will always be at odds with each other. After all, isn’t every battle fought over what’s sacred?”

The way Draco bore his eyes into her made Marie avert her own gaze. He opened his mouth to say something— _anything_ to fix this situation they both found themselves in.

_BOOOOOOOONG!_

Their focus immediately shifted towards the sound. As a proverbial time’s-up, Draco found his mouth had closed for him. As he reached for his wand he muttered, _“Merlin,_ if it wasn’t for me you’d be asleep right now,” he met eyes with her, “I’m sorry for keeping you up so late.”

_“Christ,_ it’s already midnight? _Wow_.” Marie quelled her confusion as she saw Draco rise up and head off in another direction, “Well for what it’s worth, if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have slept soundly...”

Draco spun around at that and was met with a dimly lit smile. As Marie ignited her wand one last time he shifted to face the other direction. No amount of darkness could conceal the smile that pulled at his lips, “Goodnight, Marie. _Nox.”_

As his wand turned off for the night, he set off to turn in for the same reason. Marie called out as quietly as she could, “See ya in the morning, Drake.”

She kept her wand lit until she heard the sound of his footsteps fade far into the darkness. When she felt a tear fall down her cheek, she wiped it away and took a look at her slightly damp palm. In an involuntary reaction, she wiped her eyes with that same hand.

With a final yawn she pulled up her blanket and didn’t delay falling into the pillow. Her outreached wand gave her one last look into the bleak nothingness.

“Until next time, my friend.  _Nox_.”


	6. To Meet Again, They Hope They Will

There was always something mystical about the crunching of leaves as you stepped upon them. Marie felt the same mysticism towards the way the pact snow faltered under her boots with a similar pitch.

 _“Are you even listening to me?”_ a familiar scorn pulled her back to an objective reality.

She sent him a smile as she felt the sudden feeling of asphyxiation, “Uh,” once her Slytherin scarf was adjusted she answered fully; “No I lost you during the Parseltongue bit, sorry.”

The exasperated sigh that escaped Draco only made her undertake guilt, _“Honestly,_ Goike! I take time out of my day to inform you of a founder of Hogwarts—and more importantly the founder of our _house_ —while you just brush me off like it’s nothing!”

“I’m sure Salazar wouldn’t mind hearing about his legacy _one_ more time,” Marie halted to gather the unusual surroundings, “Hey Drake, _where are we?”_

He stopped a little ways in front of her as he was still walking while her steps waned. With a gathering glance of his own, he met her with a comforting beam, “Just the outside of Hogsmeade; nothing to worry about.”

“I’ve got a hex with your name on it if you’re lying,” she looked around nervously as her gloved hands were stuffed back into her coat pockets. Marie nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

 _“Easy,_ Marie,” the hand’s arm traced back to Draco, “I assure you we’re not lost.” He gently positioned her towards the not-so-distant village, “See?” His hand found its way between her shoulder blades as he pointed towards the small crowd of buildings. He inched closer to compensate for his reach as he added, “It’s a ten minute walk here and another ten back—I’ve clocked it before,” when he turned to give a smile of approval he couldn’t help noticing how close they now stood.

Marie felt the same vibe as she gave a breathy notion of newfound security, “Thanks.” She hoped he would blame her blush on the cold as her gaze shifted to where their bodies connected.

Draco must have followed her eyes as he now tentatively broke the embrace, “Maybe we should head back into town.” At a more comfortable distance he added an incentive, “We could get a Butterbeer or something.”

Her soft laughter finally made the line of tension return to slack. She began walking towards the mouth of the trail that led them here, “Only if you’re _buying,_ my friend.”

Draco quickly trailed after her, “Your irresponsible spending leaves me no choice!”

* * *

 

The bustling in the air indicated that they had indeed made it back. Though the duo seemed to be too enthralled in their conversation to pay it much mind.

“So you’re telling me that Eve was a Parselmouth?” Marie’s arched brow gave the monument in Missouri a run for its money.

As they trekked up the hill that leveled into the main of Hogsmeade, Draco couldn’t hide his confusion;  _“Eve?”_

With her hands still buried in her pockets she shook her head and chuckled, “Here I thought I’d be buying you a Bible for a completely _different_ reason.”

Draco glowered as he held the door into Three Broomsticks for her. Marie immediately pulled off her scarf as they entered.

As the booths were unavailable, the two settled for a table in the back. Dodging sugar-fueled kids in Honeydukes was one thing, but staying out the way of a determined waitress carrying her weight in drinks was completely another.

Marie was adorning her chair with her coat as a server walked by asking them what they wanted. Before she could reply Draco held up two fingers and muttered, “Two Butterbeers, shared tab.” She nodded in silent confirmation towards the waiter as she yanked her hat off.

As he made sure his own coat was secure, Draco couldn’t help noticing how her hair went in every direction as she stuffed her hat into her sleeve and pulled off her mittens. Marie then felt a hand running and brushing through her locks as she placed the convertible gloves into the same slot. She sprawled an unpleasant look while he ruffled her tangles. Rising upright she halted him with a snatch of his wrist, “What’s the big idea?”

Marie let him recoil his hand back to his side, “Your hair was just— _never mind._ Just have a seat,” Draco gestured to her chair then plopped into his with a sigh.

She couldn’t help running her own hand through her hair as she sat down. It wasn’t hard to conclude that his endeavor was mostly successful.

They shared eye contact for a minute before Marie settled with drumming the table like bongos and giving the Inn a gander. “Hurry up and wait, just like my dad always says.” She found her way back to Draco to see him tracing the grain of the wood with his finger.

He felt her eyes on him and looked up momentarily before returning to the increasingly interesting table, “Who was the wizardly one in your family? I mean—other than _you,_ of course.”

She tilted her head at this sudden interest in her heritage. It was something to past the time though; “Well you won’t find him in any Hogwarts yearbook, that’s for sure.”

That caused him to look up fully, “I won’t?” His finger remained on the table.

“He went to Beauxbatons, though it was very brief,” Marie sloped cross-armed onto the table with a chuckle, “I’m pretty sure he had a different last name then, too.”

Draco sprung upright into his chair with full attention, _“Beauxbatons?_ I never expected that,” he gave her an up-down glance and slightly leaned in with curiosity, “Why was it brief?”

“The War mostly,” when she received befuddlement towards the vague answer she clarified, “World War Two; I’m sure you’ve heard of it. He was in the European theatre and my other grandfather was in the Pacific.” Marie sunk her head into her arms.

He had heard of it, but now Draco wished he paid more attention during that part of class. He mostly used context clues to figure out her wording as he became more level with her gaze, “Was your other grandfather…?” The trailing off was intentional.

Marie rose up slightly and her friend was quick to back off. His haphazardly wavering interest in her never failed to be intriguing. “No, my other grandpa was a muggle,” she inclined back into her seat as she scanned Draco to see if his motive was written on his face.

Before a reply or another question could be made, the Scottish server was doling out their drinks. “One for you,” he placed Draco’s down with a mutual nod, “and one for his _pretty,_ _little lass_ ,” the waiter’s smile was ear-to-ear and Marie looked away bashfully as her drink landed on the table with a clink.

“She’s _not_ my girlfriend,” Draco rectified with a mean glare.

It was hard not to overhear hooting and whistling from the nearby Weasley twins. Marie sheepishly grinned and hid her face in response.

The server just gave a tilt of his head towards the blond,  _“Your loss, mate._ ” Before any kind of retort could be spat, the man slipped away back to the bar.

Draco bore holes into their loose-lipped server. Meanwhile, Marie noticed her friends from Gryffindor had arrived. A tapping on his forearm brought his attention back to her, _“What?”_

Her drink was already in clasp as she asked, “Can I make my rounds?” She gestured at the twins and they waved in response.

He shook a foul face towards them before tensely meeting her eyes, “I’m your _bank,_ not your babysitter.”

Marie stood up with drink in hand, “Is that a yes?” Before he could reply, she set down her drink while bending over with hands clasped above her head. Her Oliver Twist impression was ghastly,  _“Please, sir!_ I swear on me _mum_ to be good!”

Draco wrapped his fingers around his glass as he gave a brutal eye roll, _“Go, Marie.”_ His eyes shifted away towards no one particular in the Inn, “I’ll try not to wander off.”

She rose up while securely seizing her drink and shrank around it like it was a source of great power. _“Thank you, sir!_ The Britons are _forever_ in your debt!” Her conclusive laugh was haughty to say the least.

Draco scoffed with a bitter smirk as he turned to look at her. He soon found himself wondering why he expected to find Marie still standing there. With a fleeting glance at where she once stood, he realized he was white-knuckling his mug and quickly amended himself.

* * *

 

“That was _great,_ Marie!” one twin beamed and took hold of her drink as both met her halfway.

“Your accent is improving every time I see you!” The other twin embraced her and secretly stuck his tongue out at Malfoy who was watching from behind. As he got the finger in response, the tall wizard pulled away with a sly laugh. His hand messed up her hair as he gave her a warm smile, “How you been, Goike? It’s been awhile and I just couldn’t help noticing your hair!”

 _“Stop it,_ Fred!” Marie laughed and playfully shoved his arm away, “I’ve been pretty good! How about you and George?” She shared a distant mutual nod with the other twin who was putting her drink down at the table.

Fred chuckled for a moment, “We haven’t been unwell, thanks,” he motioned towards their booth, “Come on, I saved you seat.”

Marie rolled her eyes at the inventive response as the twins returned with the Slytherin. She was quickly met with friendly eyes and Hermione was first to greet, “Marie! Your look is just _adorable!_ Have a seat.” She patted the small aisle spot next to her.

If these Gryffindors were brave at anything, it would be for putting booths almost past capacity.

George and Fred unanimously spoke as all three sat down, “I can’t believe you can still tell us apart!” The two looked at each other and laughter erupted at the table.

As the hilarity wound down, Marie grinned through her response with mug in hand, “If you two were _exactly_ alike, you’d be clones.”

Ron pointed a thumb at the identical twins next to him and spoke with vexation, “We’ve been brothers my whole life and I _still_ can’t tell them apart!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so _thick_ you might see what she sees,” Hermione glowered with a hidden malice. She then turned to Marie with much more poise, “But I think I speak for everyone when I ask: just _how_ do you do it?”

Marie took a swallow of her Butterbeer and wiped her mouth with the thick, wool knit of her sleeve. She flushed at the expecting eyes now on her, “You just gotta be perceptive, I guess.” Her gaze averted, “I mean, George is always my caddy— _sorry, George,_ ” everyone smiled as he passively nodded in acceptance. Marie then gave the remaining twin consideration, “and Fred is always the patron saint that never hesitates to greet me.”

Fred couldn’t help shyly looking away and smiling at her description. If she knew any better, she could’ve pointed out the blush that his gaunt hand now covered. Unfortunately laughter was deemed more important.

“Only a clever Slytherin could distinguish between the nerve of identical Gryffindors,” George gave her a smirk as the laughter subsided, “Don’t you agree, Fred?” He nudged his distracted brother with an elbow.

Fred locked eyes with Marie transitorily as his reply wavered, “Uh, yeah. Only a _clever_ one,” his hands fumbled together as he gave her a peek of his glow.

Now it didn’t take a Sherlock Holmes or a Nancy Drew to see that Fred had feelings for the Slytherin. In fact, George always teased that if they broke up he could just take over. Fred would then always remind him that they first had to be together before they could break up.

Marie harbored similar feelings for the boy, but their lack of interaction helped her hide it well. Only Hermione knew about their silent conflict and it ached her to watch them be so close and yet so far away. However, both told her on their own account that an intimate relationship would be just too hard to maintain. Even Fred admitted to his increasing promiscuity to solidify his argument.

Marie’s morose reason haunted her friend more than anything, _‘I’d marry him if I could, Hermione. But even though waters of the most distant rivers eventually all meet in the ocean, it doesn’t mean they’ll meet in the same spot…. or at the same time.’_

“You alright, Hermione?” Marie’s present words summoned her back to reality.

The Gryffindor wiped her eyes as nonchalantly as she could, “Yeah,” she nodded for assurance, “Yes, I’m okay. Can we talk?” She put a comforting hand on the Slytherin’s arm, “Outside preferably.”

Marie nodded and the two dismissed themselves from the booth and then left the Inn hand-in-hand. The way she was nearly dragged out by Hermione raised eyebrows.

Draco couldn’t help noticing, either.

* * *

 

Fred idly watched his secret love exit Three Broomsticks and was quick to catch Malfoy also giving her a glance. He simultaneously gulped his Butterbeer and bore daggers into the Slytherin that played the leading role he desired.

He sinfully wiped his foamy maw as if it was covered in blood and didn’t hesitate to take another lengthy sip.

The craving Fred had for Marie did everything but make him beg. Their first meeting was forever ingrained into his mind.

* * *

_The twins were mercilessly skimming Zonko’s shelves for the ultimate gag as the sound of someone entering made them momentarily regard the door._

_George was quick to return to their mission. However Fred couldn’t help a double take concerning the two who came inside._

_He nudged the preoccupied brother and pointed towards his main focus, “Hey, check out the talent.”_

_George gave a snide glance as he bit his cheek, “I hope you’re not talking about Malfoy.”_

_“Don’t be such a divvy! I’m clearly talking ‘bout the bird he’s with!” Fred tried to get a better look while still maintaining cover. He craned his neck in every direction while he rambled off his thoughts, “I didn’t know Malfoy had it in him! Maybe she’s into the danger; I’m dangerous—but is it her kind of dangerous—Bah, I’m everyone’s type of dangerous!”_

_George snickered as he took hold of his twin’s shoulder. The way Fred nearly hit the ceiling at the sudden contact was definitely noted in his book of slights. However being a brother always came before any snide comment, “Easy, Freddy. There aren’t actually any spooks in here.”_

_Fred was quick to recover with a fleeting look towards his newfound interest, “Aw sorry, Georgie. You know how easy I get carried away,” he couldn’t hide his longing glance if his life depended on it, “That bugger is firmly wrapped around her finger—for that I’m certain.” Fred shifted his gaze to George, “From what I see, I’d probably fall right in line with him.”_

_George glanced over at the bickering Slytherins and witnessed Draco effortlessly falling for the chewing gum trick. The way the brunette cackled at his dismay told him all he needed to know. “She’s a sister to him,” he returned his gaze to his rather torn brother, “I’m sure you can chat her up better than he ever could.”_

_Fred soon found his feet moving towards her and stopped on a second thought. Without looking back he shakily inquired, “Are you sure?”_

_“Go, Fred. I’ll try not to wander.” The twin was already around the shelf corner before George could finish his sentence._

_Fred Weasley was quickly halted by Malfoy’s cold scowl. The girl sounded as tomboyish as she looked, “What’s caught your eye, Drake?” Fred never loved American accents as much as he did now._

_When the witch turned to face Fred, time seemed to stop as her chocolate gaze locked onto his. “Hello,” he gave a sheepish grin and a slight wave, “I’m Fred Weasley, and I just couldn’t help noticing you walk in.”_

_Fred could almost forget about the daggers Draco bore into him. She giggled at the sudden courtesy, “I never thought I would actually meet one of Gryffindor’s greatest tricksters! The name’s Marie—Marie Goike.” She held out a hand and Fred gladly shook it._

_The sound of Malfoy scoffing was surprisingly followed by a retreat, “I just knew coming to this place was a bad idea. I’ll be outside if you need me.” With one last scrutinizing glare aimed at the Weasley, the blond quickly made his exit._

_The ginger couldn’t help watching to make sure that his departure was final. The sound of the much shorter witch returning her focus to him proved to be of more interest, “Ah, he’s got a short fuse but he means well.”_

_Fred stuffed his hands into his pockets while giving the exit a transitory glance; “I’ll have to take your word for it, um—Marie, right?” He eagerly swayed in hopes his memory didn’t pick this time to fail him._

_“Well until further notice, I’m afraid so.” Marie’s shoulders seemed to unhinge as she breathed her response._

_Fred appeared to finally deflate as a laugh escaped him. This didn’t become as tense a situation as he thought it would. He knew he’d be thanking Merlin for the next month and even wagered the next year if they became at least friends._

* * *

 

His Butterbeer was wrathfully downed as he gave the spot Marie and Hermione once inhabited an involuntary glare.

As he slid the mug away a short distance, Fred motioned George to come close. The twin left Ron and Harry to talk amongst themselves as he whispered, “What’s up?”

Fred loomed his eyes at the unsuspecting Slytherin as he spoke, “Keep an eye out. If things look tense,” he shifted his glance towards George, _“it’s because they are.”_

George nodded as his twin’s eyes led him to Malfoy. “Do what you have to do,” he gave Fred a reassuring smile, “You know where I’ll be if things turn south.”

As Fred's feet made their way to his personal fiend, the Slytherin was quick to match his glower. "You saw her go outside— _I’m certain of that._ ” Draco squeamishly recoiled from the sudden wand at his nose.

Weasley pulled back the chair that her coat clung to with his wand still making a clear trail to the boy’s heart. “This isn’t about _her_ —at least not directly.”

Draco let the boy sit and sneered, “Put the hand-me-down away, _Weasley._ ” Fred reluctantly obliged as he pressed on, “Considering the fact you’re sitting down for this must mean it’s important— _But make it quick,_ for I have better uses of my time.”

Fred’s arm returned to his side from placing the weapon into his back pocket, “Like I said, it’s partly about her.”

Malfoy’s lip curled, “And to whom does this _mainly_ concern?”

The ginger’s eyes grew sober as he leaned forward with neatly clasped hands, _“You._ ” As the blond seemed to acutely tune in, the wizard continued, “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors—

 _“They’re not true,_ ” Draco snapped.

Fred nodded more in relief than confirmation, “I know. However my feelings for her _are—_

“Can we _skip_ the semantics?”

His nostrils flared at the renowned spite, “I’m afraid not, Malfoy. Just shut up and I’ll be done before you even know it.”

Draco’s brow furrowed as he brought his mug to his lips, _“Fine.”_

“As I was saying, I care about her a lot. Believe it or not, I envy your position more and more each day I don’t see her,” he paused for a retort and sustained when it did not surface, “Marie is one of the few people I would take a curse for. Now I get that I sound like a divvy who needs to wake up and smell the coffee, but I’m afraid you fall right in line with me.”

“I already told you I feel _nothing!”_ Draco lunged towards the table with a hiss.

Fred flinched upright in his chair and quickly gathered himself while draping his long arm over the back. “That’s your _problem,_ Malfoy. I don’t know if she ever told you, but she once informed me that even Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Draco ebbing to a more collected state signified that he was indeed kept in the loop. “Now you probably know more about Rome than I do—

“Rome was a pinnacle civilization that outlasted nearly every strife it faced. Their people built structures and ideas that last long into today,” Malfoy’s gaze lifted from the table to the Weasley, “Rome defined our very world.”

Though he couldn’t confirm Draco’s details, Fred found the thread he was looking for, “And you define _her_ very world.”

Malfoy seemed astonished by the idea, “But _I—_

“As much as the phrase points to history, it means that even the greatest things take time,” Fred interrupted Draco's blight and soon felt the sting of his own words. “The relationship between you and Marie is dozy at best,” he made sure he had the Slytherin by the eyes, “but even a love-struck duffer like me can see you’re both on your way to each other. I’m not saying that you two should already be snogging— _think that for a second and I’ll hurt ya_ —But I'm forever certain that something is there."

Fred was right about one thing; he had left the table before Draco could even fathom what happened.

* * *

 

Marie only had one girl she could call a best friend. The fact they both had muggle roots only made their relationship that much stronger.

Hermione's true intention of escorting her friend outside was to alleviate the stress of watching that tragic love story play before her. However, her Gryffindor boldness didn’t make her entirely brash.

“I swear Ron has the emotional capacity of a teaspoon!” At least her smite was limited to a boy outside Marie's interests.

Marie was just glad she decided on wearing her father’s old hunting sweater as they stood outside in the cold. With her arms folded tightly she rolled her eyes, “I think you’re being a little generous there, Hermione.”

Hermione let out a frustrated huff, “At least you _understand_ where I’m coming from!” She tucked her hands into her armpits as the cold also began to eat at her.

The Slytherin was feverishly rubbing her hands together and quickly folded her arms back up. She repeated the process once more as she spoke, “You just have to give the boy time. I mean—I don’t think you were born any more mature than he was,” she clinched through almost rattling teeth, “There isn't a deadline on growing up, y’know.”

Thick snowflakes began to fall on Hogsmeade, which caused both girls to look up and around. Marie’s eyes were brought back to Earth with Hermione’s voice, “Maybe we should go back inside.”

“Another great idea from the brightest witch of our generation,” Marie was already holding the door open for her, “Too bad she couldn’t think of grabbing _jackets,_ ” she nodded towards the inside, “Come on.”

With the door shutting behind them as they reentered Three Broomsticks, Hermione couldn’t help a retort; “You increasingly sound like Malfoy every time I see you.”

“And I increasingly wish I was sorted into Gryffindor every time I see _you_.” Her smirk came off more bitter than snide as she leaned onto the nearby wall. The unfortunate Slytherin’s gaze then grew distant and her eyes soon fell shut as if she saw something that wasn’t pleasant.

Hermione couldn’t help tracing her friend’s eyes as she leaned onto the wall next to her.

She had caught a glimpse of Fred.

 _“Marie,_ ” she began with despondency and hated how she couldn’t follow it up.

Marie’s eyes slowly reopened as she enunciated with an increasing detachment, “The Hat said that my troubles weren't a subjective prediction.” She felt Hermione’s gaze and sustained with her focus on the floor, “Back then I didn’t even know what ‘subjective’ meant. Sure it wasn’t _hard_ to figure out,” her gaze locked onto the far-off Weasley, “but I still find myself considering new meanings every day.”


End file.
